


That Would Be Enough

by Avelys



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Baekhyun Is a Little Shit, Doctors & Physicians, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Smut, side KrisHo, side Taekook - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelys/pseuds/Avelys
Summary: In the end, Jongin and Kyungsoo are together, and that’s enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ForKadiOnly. Title is a reference to Hamilton.

Kyungsoo stirs awake to the feeling of warm hands on his shoulders. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with ginger fingers, he sits up and lets out a long and heavy yawn. His bleary vision eventually sharpens, focusing on the face of the clock mounted on the wall directly ahead of him. 2:37. It is very late, as usual.

“Were you waiting for me?” Jongin murmurs softly behind him.

“Why would I be waiting for you?” Kyungsoo demands, but his voice- scratchy from his nap- lacks oomph. “Don’t flatter yourself. I fell asleep watching dramas.” It’s only a half-lie: he _had_ been marathoning his favorite shows, but he probably would have gone to bed much earlier if his husband had been home.

Jongin knows him too well however, and merely smiles. It’s the same smile he always wears- perhaps a little more worn, a little more tired, but still. It’s the bright smile that makes Kyungsoo’s heart race, has _always_ done so. “I’m sorry,” he says, and there is a sincere and palpable undercurrent of regret in his words. “I’m sorry I missed dinner again.”

Snorting, Kyungsoo stands. “What are you talking about?” he retorts. For all that his husband is a happy person (a veritable puppy, even!) he knows that Jongin can spiral into long, unbearable periods of self-deprecation and guilt (again, like a puppy.) “Don’t be silly. Your dinner is in the microwave. Want me to nuke it for you?”

Without waiting for a response, he walks into the kitchen, flipping on the lights as he goes. He knows that Jongin has had a long day at work. Even though it’s disappointing that they don’t get to spend as much time with one another as when they were dating, it’s a fact of life that he has come to accept.

By the soft footfalls behind him, he can tell without even turning around that Jongin has followed him. “You should take a shower,” Kyungsoo chides his husband. “You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.” As always. Somewhere deep within Kyungsoo, a small part of him is bitter, but he squashes it mercilessly. 

Instead of listening to him, Jongin pulls a chair away from the dining room table and takes a seat. There’s a misty, dreamy look in his eyes, and Kyungsoo can tell right away that his husband is reminiscing.

“Do you ever think about when we were dating?” he asks quietly, voice far away. “Life was so much simpler back then.”

Kyungsoo does actually. Once in a while, he just likes to curl up on the couch and think back to when they were young, when their biggest worries were passing classes. When they studied together, went out together, spent time together. Sometimes, he wonders if their relationship is dying, whether it’s in the hideous throes of death and he just can’t recognize it. He always shakes it off, but _still_. He wonders.

But he knows that saying it aloud won’t solve anything. “You mean when we lived in a shitty apartment, didn’t have stable jobs, and went on dates at the convenience store?” he asks instead, voice sardonic. “I try not to. We’re better off now.” And they are- fiscally anyway. “You really should go take a shower,” Kyungsoo bugs, because he can be persistent when the situation calls for it. “I promise your dinner will still be warm when you’re done.”

Jongin’s head shakes in laughter. He stands, but instead of leaving, he makes his way over to Kyungsoo, wraps his arms around the smaller man’s waist, and presses his face into the crook of his husband’s neck. “I’m so lucky to have you, Soo,” he breathes, and it’s all Kyungsoo can do to suppress the shiver that is itching to run up and down his spine.

“Yes, you are,” Kyungsoo retorts, but he doesn’t really mean it. He basks in the feeling of being in those strong arms for a few moments, before shoving Jongin off. “And you,” he wrinkles his nose, “ _Really_ need to take a shower.”

-

Baekhyun is an interesting case.

His worried parents take him to Kyungsoo’s office almost constantly. Once in the examination room, the boy would often dramatically exclaim his numerous woeful symptoms, all assuredly pointing toward his eventual demise. Nonexistent fevers, imaginary vomit, unverifiable claims of nausea. If the boy is to be believed, he is suffering from AIDS, cancer, and the swine flu at the same time.

In Kyungsoo’s professional opinion, there’s nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing at all. Baekhyun, all things considered, is one of the healthiest patients that he has ever had. And he has tried to explain this to the boy’s parents _so many times_.

“No, Junmyeon,” he says, rubbing his temples to try and leech away his stress. “Your son does not have cancer. That’s just a mole. It’s always been there.”

In fact, if there’s anything he would diagnose Baekhyun with, it’d be hypochondria. But he knows better: he knows the truth. The boy has a bit of a crush on Kyungsoo’s gangly and awkward nurse, Park Chanyeol, despite their tremendous age difference, and the even _more_ tremendous disparity in their height. Chanyeol, for his part, fears the boy like no other, constantly fleeing at the mere sight of Baekhyun.

The fear is understandable. It’s probably that instinctual fear that a predator instills in its prey. Chanyeol is a veritable gazelle, and Baekhyun could probably play the part of a lion admirably.

Junmyeon eyes his son concernedly. “But he’d said it was growing,” he worries his lip. Junmyeon and Yifan, bless their souls, are exemplary parents. Or they would be, if they weren’t both gullible as fuck. No matter how over-the-top Baekhyun’s antics are, no matter how many times Kyungsoo assures them that their son is as healthy as a horse, they fall for the little boy’s dramatics every time.

Kyungsoo shrugs helplessly. “It looks the same as the last two times he’s come,” he informs the worried father. “And it doesn’t show any of the warning signs of cancer. If you _really_ want to, I can run some tests. But I would bet my life on it being a mole.”

For a moment, Junmyeon seems to consider it. Then, he shakes his head. “It’s better to be safe than to be sorry,” he mutters, almost to himself, as if rationalizing his decision to waste his hard-earned money.

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo chalks it up as a losing battle. “Chanyeol, why don’t you take Baekhyun to the next room and prep him for a biopsy?” he suggests.

The tall man looks petrified, but the little boy is ecstatic. With unparalleled gusto, he scampers off, pulling Chanyeol reluctantly behind him.

“A lot of energy for a dying boy,” Kyungsoo says under his breath. He regrets it immediately when he sees Junmyeon paling.

“I thought you said he was healthy!” Junmyeon exclaims accusingly.

“He is, he is,” Kyungsoo assures him hastily. “I was just being sarcastic.”

That mollifies the worried father somewhat, who relaxes back into his chair. There are a few moments of silence after that, during which Kyungsoo focuses on completing some necessary paperwork.

“Do you have kids?” Junmyeon ventures softly.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes. “No,” he answers softly. “But I would like to.”

And he would. It’s something he’s always dreamed of, having a bright-eyed little tyke of his own rushing through the house, driving both him and Jongin crazy. There was a time that he dreamed that domestic dream, imagined the both of them being fathers and taking their child around, showing him the world, telling him what they know.

It’s a dream he’s let go of now. He and Jongin are barely around each other anymore, and even when they are, Jongin is always too exhausted for sex to even be an option. They sleep together, in their bed, but it is cold and there is no intimacy. Simply put, there is no opportunity to make a child.

Even if he could, Kyungsoo’s not sure he would bring a child into their life anymore. His imagined scenarios had slowly replaced themselves with different ones. Sad ones, where Kyungsoo raises his son or daughter alone, with Jongin off at work.

He’s alright with Jongin doing this to him, to _them_. But if Jongin did this to their child, then he thinks he would hate his husband forever.

“When you have a child, there are just no risks worth taking, you know?” Kyungsoo snaps back to attention at those words. Junmyeon is looking straight ahead, but his eyes seem to be seeing very little. 

“Yifan and I tried so hard to have him. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Baekhyun.”

Kyungsoo quirks his lips, thinks back to those abandoned dreams that he had once held on to, and thinks that maybe it’s something he _does_ understand after all.

-

There are times when it is not so easy for Kyungsoo.

He tries to be understanding, he really does. If there were awards for patience, then they should be lining the walls, because Kyungsoo’s been waiting for so long. Even before Jongin took this goddamn job as an E.R. surgeon, time was a scarce commodity at best, and nonexistent at worst. Now, Kyungsoo practically lives alone, with the only evidence of Jongin being the warm, empty space beside him when he awakes. But normally, it’s alright. He can be patient. He can survive it.

But at times, the loneliness is too much. When they had moved out from their small apartment into the house they own now, it had been a time for celebration: their fortunes were improving, there was more surety in their future. Both he and Jongin had been utterly convinced that the next chapter toward their happy ending was beginning. Kyungsoo knows better now: he has been intimate with solitude, has tasted the sorrow of an empty home.

Dinner sits untouched on the tabletop. Candles are burned past the halfway point, long past where he had expected them to. On the wall, the clock is ticking the seconds, minutes, hours away. The only sounds in the house are the quiet hum of the heater and Kyungsoo’s own breathing. Outside the window, the moon and stars light up the quiet world all by themselves.

And he can’t take it. The loneliness has never been this abject, this profound before. On other days he could watch something, or chat with friends online. But not today, not on his anniversary.

Tears well up in his eyes, but Kyungsoo refuses to let them escape, to even acknowledge them. He needs some air, some _fresh_ air. Hurriedly, he pulls on a jacket, his fingers stumbling to pull up the zipper to his neck. He fumbles with the doorknob for a moment or two, and then he’s out- the stifling, all-encompassing _disappointment_ that had been beating down against him is no longer present. It feels like freedom.

Kyungsoo stumbles forward: one step, two steps, three steps. He pays little attention as his surroundings morph from the familiarity of his home, to the trees of the park. His mind keeps trying to pull him back to sweeter days, but just _thinking_ about them brings pain to his heart.

Jongin has been late to so many dinners, but Kyungsoo has never minded. He would never begrudge Jongin his dream of being a surgeon. Kyungsoo has never felt the need to come first, has never _allowed_ himself to feel the powerful pull of insecurity. But even on their anniversary? It’s too much for him, it’s just too much.

He sits on the park bench and cries for a while. Just cries. All the fat tears he’d been struggling to hold back now roll down his face, leaving warm and wet streaks on his cheeks. Each gut-wrenching sob pumps the pain in his heart out into the open; each breath pulls new life into him. It’s a catharsis of sorts, an emotional dialysis. After just a few minutes of weeping, he’s already feeling better, his mind is already clearer than it has been in days.

So what if Jongin’s a little late? It doesn’t matter. Kyungsoo knows that Jongin loves him, and that’s enough. Any more than that would just be the icing on the cake. And what is an anniversary, even? It’s just a day. There are so many other days that it just doesn’t matter. Jongin loves him on any given day, and that’s enough.

He’s back in the driveway, and so is Jongin’s car. Still buoyed by his epiphany, Kyungsoo is smiling as he walks up the house. He whistles a merry tune as he kicks off his shoes and enters, all the while keeping an eye peeled for Jongin.

“Hey Jongin,” he calls into the house. “I was just taking a little walk, and you came home while I was gone. I’ll microwave it and we can eat togeth-”

The sentence is left unfinished because Jongin barrels out of the hallway toward him, bearing teary and wild eyes. Kyungsoo hardly has a second to relax when he has an armful of his shaking husband, who is clutching him so tightly that he fears for the circulation of his extremities.

“Jongin- what?” He feels so confused.

His husband pulls away, but holds onto his shoulders with a vicelike grip. “Soo,” Jongin begs, eyes flashing with an unfathomable fear. “Don’t leave me.”

That makes Kyungsoo sputter. “I- _what_? What made you think I was going to leave you?”

Jongin seems to be calming down a little. “It’s just- the house was empty and- well, look.” He seems uncomfortable saying the words, but bravely ploughs on nevertheless. “I know that being with me is hard. I know that I’m usually not home. But it will get better, I promise! I just need to hold on until they can find me another position…”

Kyungsoo takes his arm and gently guides him to the couch. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures him. “Don’t worry Jongin, don’t worry.” He pats the other’s arm gently, doing his best to soothe his husband. “I’m always going to be right here.”

They sit there for a while, holding onto one another and reaffirming their love, assuaging their worries. In a way, they are closer than they have been for a long while. The connection that had been fraying is back, tied together once more. In the way that Jongin’s body trembles from fear, the way each breath is shaky and shallow, Kyungsoo _feels_ his husband’s love for him. Honestly, it’s a little heady.

Still-

“I don’t understand,” Kyungsoo frowns. “What brought this on?”

Jongin has the grace to look sheepish. “My coworker, Jungkook…”

Kyungsoo nods. They’ve met before at a work function, though the only thing he can really recall is a tall young man with a big nose.

“His, um, his boyfriend Taehyung left him, because he was so busy that they were drifting apart. Uh, just last week, actually.” A pause. “And you’ve been so distant lately, you don’t fuss over me when I come home late anymore or anything,” Jongin blurts all at once, a confession. “Sometimes I feel like, I don’t know, I’m losing you or something.”

Eyes widening, Kyungsoo’s mouth forms an o of understanding. “Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that,” he assures his husband. “I’m not about to leave you anytime soon.”

Jongin smiles a strained smile. “You promise?”

Snorting, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “If I did, the police would be up my ass for reckless abandonment, because you’re about as mature as a child. So yes, I promise.”

The squawk of indignation is _so_ much better than the pained tears that had fallen only minutes before, and it warms Kyungsoo’s little heart.

-

Any other child would have been welcome in Kyungsoo’s office.

He would have been fine with the nose-picking, phleghmy Sehun, who left snot trails wherever he could lay his grubby hands.

Or even Luhan, who was _way_ too old and should be seeing a general practitioner instead. (He had referred him to Minseok, who was far and away one of the most capable physicians he knew, and Luhan had _still_ been too scared to take the leap.)

Hell, even Tylenol guzzling, dirt eating Yixing would have been alright.

Anyone but Baekhyun.

It’s his fifth visit in as many days, and Kyungsoo is willing to bet that Baekhyun is _still_ in perfect health, as he had been all those days ago.

Kyungsoo squints at him from across the desk. “… I have half a mind to refuse you service,” he gripes.

The little shit smiles smugly back at him. “My father is parking the car,” he says primly, though the look in his eyes is a triumphant one. “He’ll be coming in shortly.”

Doing his best not to blink, Kyungsoo holds the stare. “Don’t you get tired of wasting your parents’ money?”

Baekhyun tilts his head forward, giving a haughty look. “Never,” he declares. Truly, the devil himself.

Kyungsoo is about to resign himself to losing a staring contest with a child (a child!) when- lucky for him- Chanyeol walks by. Immediately, Baekhyun breaks eye contact and latches onto the (extremely uncomfortable) nurse, simpering about this and that and _ohhh, I feel so sick!_

He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the heel of his hand. He knows that he should be focusing on the children in his office, but his mind can’t help but drift back to his conversation with Jongin. Did he really seem like he was going to leave his husband? Did he give off such strong vibes of dissatisfaction? Does Jongin really feel like he’s going to lose Kyungsoo?

When Junmyeon comes through the door, it snaps him out of his reverie. He schools his face into a professional smile. “Junmyeon. What a pleasure to see you and Baekhyun… again…”

Baekhyun’s father looks extremely harried, much worse for wear. “This time he’s in for chest pain,” he says dubiously, and it’s clear to Kyungsoo that Baekhyun’s lies probably won’t be getting him any further with Junmyeon. (Yifan is another story. Yifan is a complete pushover.)

Sighing, Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I could do some chest x-rays,” he offers dully, “But I don’t think we’ll find anything.”

Junmyeon looks helpless. “I don’t see the point.”

“Me neither.” A pause. He wonders if he’s betraying some sort of doctor-patient confidentiality rule by telling Junmyeon this, but fuck it. “You know that he’s only making excuses to come here to see Chanyeol, right?”

The other man’s face is blank for a moment, but soon takes on an incensed expression. “Oh that little shit,” he bites out. “That makes so much sense. Everything makes so much sense now. He and I are going to have a little talk when we get back home.”

Satisfied, Kyungsoo smiles. “Do you want me to get him for you?” he asks pleasantly. “We offer ear-dragging services, atomic wedgies, the works.”

Junmyeon waves him off tiredly. “Just give him a last check-up while we’re here,” he mutters. “Why not. I don’t even want to see his face right now.”

-

Baekhyun is sitting on the examination table and is talking a mile a minute. Chanyeol sits in the corner nodding passively, too scared to get up and leave, too timid to tell the runty kid to shut up. When Kyungsoo walks into the room, Chanyeol looks at him as if he’d just saved him from the fury of a million blazing suns.

Which, knowing Baekhyun, might not be far off. Kyungsoo’s heart goes out to Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo places the stethoscope on Baekhyun’s chest, but doesn’t even bother to listen. Instead, he has some things he would like to say to the kid. Maybe he could disabuse the delusional midget of his notions once and for all.

“You know that Chanyeol has a girlfriend, don’t you?”

He is given a quizzical look. “… no he doesn’t,” Baekhyun says, and he sounds quite sure of himself. 

Frowning, Kyungsoo puts down the stethoscope. “Yes he does. She’s about this tall. Very pretty. Her name is Dara.”

Baekhyun merely tosses his head up and harrumphs. “She’s not his girlfriend,” he informed Kyungsoo haughtily. “She’s his beard.”

He stares at the kid. In all his years of life, Kyungsoo has never met anyone so set in their delusions. It would be quite pitiable, if only Baekhyun wasn’t a complete and utter demon. Distantly, he wonders how crushed the kid will be when reality finally sets in. After a moment, he shakes his head- sympathizing with Baekhyun could be seen as a sign of early onset dementia, he thinks grimly.

“Even if she wasn’t, I’m _way_ better for him,” Baekhyun sniffs. “I’m spontaneous and cute.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are.”

A glare. “Who asked you? What do you know about cuteness and spontaneity?” The boy crosses his arms defensively. “Just get on with the examination.”

“You’re perfectly healthy,” Kyungsoo proclaims dryly as he puts away his equipment. “As usual.”

Though his legs still swing back and forth with ferocious energy, the look on Baekhyun’s face has dimmed. “You’re not going to run any extensive tests?” he asks hopefully. The thought seems to excite him. “Maybe Chanyeol-”

“We’re not going to run any unnecessary tests,” Kyungsoo interrupts him. 

“You’re no fun,” Baekhyun pouts.

Kyungsoo smirks as he starts to fill out his clipboard. “My husband would probably beg to differ.”

Baekhyun looks up at him dubiously. “You have a husband?” he asks, the skepticism clear in his tone of voice. “Someone married _you_?”

Narrowing his eyes, Kyungsoo frowns. “What are you trying to say?”

His patient replies with a shrug. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

-

Baekhyun’s words rankle Kyungsoo more than he would like to admit.

So what if he wasn’t the most spontaneous or cute person in the world? He had stability and intelligence, and that was way better. Besides, Jongin loved him the way he was, lack of spontaneity and cuteness and all.

_But_ , he thinks to himself as he browses through party streamers, _That doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be spontaneous if he wanted. As a matter of fact, he was going to be spontaneous right this instant._ In this fit of pique, he grabs as many streamers and party favors as he can and dumps them into his cart.

Eat your heart out, Baekhyun. Kyungsoo is going to show the world just how spontaneous he can be.

-

Alright, alright. So maybe he has some problems being spontaneous. Maybe he had needed a little bit of outside help.

~~Maybe that help had come from Baekhyun.~~

Still, this is going to be a surprise party for the ages. Something wonderful to be recorded for posterity in the eternal annals of time. He is going to throw the best goddamn surprise party that has ever been planned, set-up, and thrown in a record-breaking span of one and a half hours.

“Now you hide under the table,” Baekhyun commands imperiously. “I’m going to lure him in and turn on the lights. That will be _your_ cue to jump up and say whatever it is you want to say.”

Kyungsoo responds to this by following the child’s instructions and hiding himself under the table. While Baekhyun is most assuredly better at these things than him, he can’t help but wonder if the little hypochondriac is leading him down the wrong path. He feels a little bit silly doing this, but it’s a step he’s willing to take for Jongin.

The light goes off. That’s his signal to wait.

A minute ticks by. Then another. How long does it take Baekhyun to work his manipulations anyway, Kyungsoo wonders frustratedly. His legs are starting to cramp up from poor circulation, and he _really_ hopes to see his plan come into fruition in the near future rather than a farther one, if only in hopes that he wouldn’t have to amputate his leg.

Uneven footsteps sound, and he tightens up. There’s a quiet rustle of keys as the door is unlocked, and air filters in from the hallway.

“What was it that you saw?” He hears his husband’s voice query Baekhyun kindly, and it makes his heart swell.

The lights flicker on, and that’s his cue.

In a clumsy, unpracticed motion, he maneuvers himself out from under the table, before springing wildly into the air. “Surprise!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.

Jongin’s eyes are wider than Kyungsoo has ever seen them and dart all around the room, no doubt taking in the scene before him. Cake, balloons, streamers, party favors- he and Baekhyun had spared no expense in making their ramshackle party as great as they could.

“K-Kyungsoo?” he manages, though his voice is wobbly. “What…”

He rubs his neck self-consciously. “Hey Jongin,” he greets, his voice unintentionally soft from all the emotions between the both of them in the moment. “I thought I’d surprise you.” He pauses, before paling. “Is this a bad time? Or was this a bad idea? Are you busy? Oh my god, I probably should have called to check, huh-”

“No,” Jongin blurts. “I mean, it’s not a bad time.” He smiles nervously, and Kyungsoo returns the smile.

(Baekhyun makes a gagging noise and a face, but no one pays any attention to him. Miffed, he wanders over to a chair in the corner and begins to fiddle with his phone. Probably paging one of his parents to pick him up. Kyungsoo’s money is on Yifan.)

Jongin walks over slowly, and takes Kyungsoo’s hands. His smile is at once awkward and radiant, and Kyungsoo is suddenly struck by a feeling of luckiness. To combat this wave of sentimentality, he quickly drops his husband’s hand and ushers the both of them toward the cake.

“It’s really good,” Kyungsoo says, even though he doesn’t know if it is at all. Maybe it actually sucks and Baekhyun just _thinks_ that it’s good. In hindsight, blindly trusting the palate of a kid wasn’t the best of ideas, but it’s too late now, so whatever.

Kyungsoo is in the middle of cutting the cake when Jongin speaks again. “Soo,” he murmurs quietly, and Kyungsoo’s hand stops in its tracks. “This really means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Blushing, Kyungsoo thinks that maybe this was a good idea after all. He’ll have to thank Baekhyun. Later.

-

The supply closet is fucking cramped as hell.

Kyungsoo only vaguely notices the shelves pressing against his back, because his attention is primarily consumed by the hot mouth roaming over his face, by the hands feeling around the contours of his body. He lets out a long, shuddery gasp as Jongin’s hand palms over his crotch, as Jongin’s tongue darts between their mouths with a powerful, sweeping kiss.

“Can you afford to take time off?” Kyungsoo queries worriedly, struggling to think logically despite the kisses now being applied to the side of his neck. Nevertheless, he raises his arms about Jongin’s shoulders to wrap them around.

“Jungkook is on call,” Jongin explains, as if that explained anything. “They don’t need me. It’ll be fine.”

Jongin places his hands on the sides of Kyungsoo’s face, holding it in a strong grip and pressing another heavy kiss to his lips. There is enough pressure to bruise, and Kyungsoo distantly wonders if he’ll have swollen lips by the end of it all. Then Jongin latches onto his neck once more, this time to suck a hickey into place, and Kyungsoo’s mind empties nearly completely.

Kyungsoo moans, and then blushes at how wanton the sound is.

“Fucking hot,” Jongin murmurs.

Hands tug at his pants near his hips, and Kyungsoo takes this as a sign to strip. He hooks his thumbs under his underwear, and quickly pools all his clothes around his ankles. Immediately, there is a hand on his cock, tugging at it. There is the slight pang of the feeling of a far-off orgasm, but more immediately, there is the thrill of having someone else’s hands on your body. It’s exhilarating.

Jongin’s other hand moves to Kyungsoo’s shoulder, and it takes him a moment to realize that his husband is trying to maneuver him into a better position. He complies, turning himself around and bending over the cleaning cart.

“Do you have lube?” Jongin whispers into his ear.

Kyungsoo snorts. “Do I look like a degenerate to you? Why would I carry lube around, do you think I randomly have hookups or something?”

His husband looks appropriately chastised, and heaves a heavy sigh. He pulls away, slapping Kyungsoo’s ass. “I guess we can’t do anything then,” he mutters sadly.

Blinking, Kyungsoo looks at him as if he’s crazy. “I am _not_ about to be blueballed because I don’t carry lube around like an idiot,” he says with an incredulous laugh. “You can just use spit, or whatever.”

Jongin’s eyes widen. “But Soo,” he says urgently. “You’re a doctor, you know the health risks…”

“Yes, and I’m saying they don’t matter,” he explains impatiently. “I’m clean. You’re clean. _I trust you_ , so just do it.”

Breaking out into a grin, Jongin complies. He leans his face down, lining his mouth to the crack of Kyungsoo’s ass. He rolls spit around in his mouth for a moment until he has a decent amount of it, before depositing it and spreading it with his fingers. Experimentally, he pushes a finger forward and in.

“You don’t carry lube,” Jongin says slowly, “But you’ve douched.”

“Cleanliness is a priority,” Kyungsoo replies primly.

In the darkness, Kyungsoo can’t see much. But he can still hear Jongin pulling down his scrubs, can still feel the fingers stretching him.

“Hurry,” he urges. “What if they call you for a surgery or something before we’re finished?”

_That_ spurs Jongin into action. Within moments, Kyungsoo can feel the head of his husband’s cock pressed against his hole. It’s a familiar feeling, but one that he’s gone without for far too long. He allows his eyes to roll back into his head. The sensation of being _filled_ is palpable, and he instinctively squeezes around Jongin’s cock.

“Oh my god,” he hears behind him, and he swells up with pride.

The thrusts are shallow, at first. Both of them are rusty, out of practice, and it takes a while for them to get back in the swing of it. But eventually, the movements smooth out, the mistakes fade into the background. There is only the languid thrust of Jongin’s cock, and the forward swing of Kyungsoo’s body as he accepts the thrust.

It goes back and forth as they chase their orgasms. More often than not, Jongin does manage to find Kyungsoo’s prostate, and it brings a wave of toe-curling pleasure each time that he does. Regardless, he always manages to find it once more before the initial feeling fades away, and soon enough there is a warmth building low in Kyungsoo’s belly.

Unwilling to lose to his husband, Kyungsoo squeezes his ass as tightly as he can. It makes each thrust more painful to receive, but from the more frequent moans of his partner, it brings more pleasure to Jongin. Pleased with the result, Kyungsoo attempts something different, squeezing his ass in pulses as Jongin thrusts forward.

When he feels the body behind him shuddering, he knows it’s time. With a breathy, relieved sigh, Kyungsoo allows himself to cum all over the cleaning cart. Behind him, Jongin releases a choked moan, and Kyungsoo suddenly feels his husband’s cock spasm, followed by a burst of warmth.

For a moment, they both stand there, reveling in the high of an orgasm. The beeping from Jongin’s pager snaps them out of it.

Pulling up his pants, Jongin slaps Kyungsoo’s ass. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he explains, his eyes still smoldering, still dark with lust. “I’ll see you when I get home, baby.”

Kyungsoo responds with a smirk.


End file.
